Keep Going
by KnightwingYJ
Summary: This is not how I imagined my first day... Things are not what the seem in Racoon City. Overrun by the undead, it's few remaining survivors must work together to escape the damned city. A fix-it for the Resident Evil 2 Remake. This will be part one of an ongoing series.
1. Something's Not Right

**Author's Note**: I just realized that none of the notes that I wrote when I posted this to Ao3 transitioned to FanFiction because they are not actually connected. I know, I'm an idiot. So, allow me to remedy that.

This story is a retelling of the Resident Evil 2 Remake that was released in 2019 (if you haven't figured that out already). I am absolutely obsessed with the game but hated how that was barely any interaction between Leon and Claire. So, I decided to change that. The story will follow the basic premise of the game with some adjustments to fit my perfect version. I will also be adding a few scenes of my own. Nothing too drastic though.

Anyway, there will be blood, gore, violence, and swearing in this story because it's Resident Evil. It's expected. Anyways, enjoy!

* * *

Yawning was very inconvenient while driving. It made his eyes water and reminded him of the exhaustion hanging off his body. Five hours in the driver's seat had turned his ass into an overstuffed pin cushion. The rock music whispering from his stereo kept his head from hitting the steering wheel, but his eyelids were getting heavier with every mile marker he passed. He didn't remember Raccoon City being this long of a drive the last time he was here. Must be the time of day, or night, as it were. He yawned again, jaw cracking, and he shook his head to wake himself up. _Come on, Leon. You're nearly there,_ he encouraged. _Just a little further_.

The glow of the Mizoil Gas Station glared at him through his windshield and he nearly sighed in relief. Maybe a quick pit stop was what he needed to survive the rest of the trip. He glanced quickly at his gas gage. A bit of fuel wouldn't hurt either.

Pulling smoothly into an empty space, Leon killed the engine, cutting off the music and headlights. He groaned and stretched, feeling the vertebrae in his lower back pop back into place. He rubbed the tension out of his neck before stepping out. The rain was a quiet pitter-patter against the concrete and steel of the gas station. Grabbing the diesel nozzle, he took a survey of the area.

"No one's around?"

The place was essentially dead. Not a soul in sight. Even the small convenience store attached to the station was dark. He knew it was late, but there should at least be someone manning the store, even at this hour. A police cruiser sat idle in the center of the gas station parking lot, it's passenger door wide open. "That's weird."

The sound of shattering glass drew his attention to the seemingly deserted store. Seems someone was here after all. This was raising all kinds of red flags for him and his inner cop urged him to investigate. He stepped around his Jeep and spotted splotched of red dotting the concrete heading toward the front of the store. Uh oh. Those little red flags morphed into flashing neon-red lights and claxons. Something was seriously wrong here.

Leon pulled open his Jeep and reached across his seat for the glove box. Popping it open, he grasped the holstered H&K VP70M. Better safe than sorry. After making sure it was securely strapped to his hip, he proceeded to the store.

The front door was unlocked, and he opened it cautiously. "Hello? Anybody here?" Silence. The store was nearly pitch black. A single beam of light stretched across the littered floor from the dropped flashlight at his feet. He picked it up and scanned the surrounding area. The floor was cover in knocked over products, broken glass, and blood. Where was everyone? The uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach had him speaking out loud, "Something's not right."

A muffled bang and voices drifted from somewhere to his right. It seems the assailants were still somewhere in the building. Spying a door that seemed to lead to a rear storage room, he moved towards it, hoping to hear or see something that gave him a clue of what was going on here. The knob resisted his attempts to turn it. He tried to peer through the tiny window, but it limited his view to a shelving unit and a flickering light bulb. He could still hear the muffled grunts of a scuffle but had no way of getting inside to help.

Sighing, he turned back and spotted someone hunched against the wall by the freezer door. He lifted the light and the first thing he noticed was that the man was dressed in some kind of uniform. An employee maybe? The second thing was the blood staining his shirt and the floor surrounding him. Breath hitching in concern, Leon jogged over and knelt next to him. "You alright?" Ragged gasps were his only answer. The man had his hand pressed against the side of his neck, where Leon assumed the wound was. The bleeding seemed to have stopped. A bloodied hand pointed toward the opened freezer door, shaking as the gesture took what little strength the man had. Giving the man another once over, Leon nodded and stood. "Don't move, I'll be back for you." The traumatized employee didn't bother to respond.

Cool air drifted from the open doorway and Leon grateful to have his windbreaker. The corridor wasn't as nearly dark as the main store as tiny lights guided the way to an ajar door at the end. Stacks of frozen or chilled produce lined the walls. He heard the tell-tale sound of the heavy freezer door locking behind him and he tried not to be irritated that the injured employee had cut off his only visible escape route. Swallowing down the nervousness that wanted to rise, he continued down the cold hallway. He had trained for situations like this. All he had to do was trust his instincts and follow procedure. Everything was going to be fine.

The bangs, thuds, and grunts got louder as he got closer.

"Stop moving". Pushing open the door, Leon trained his flashlight on the backs of one of the assailants. Tan shirt with a badge sewn into the sleeve revealed the identity of a local sheriff's deputy. He was struggling to restrain a large, growling man against the far wall. Leon suspected the man had to be drunk or high or something to be producing all those weird, animalistic noises.

"Officer, you need help?" Leon called, trying to get a better understanding of the situation he had just walked into.

The deputy's attention shifted to him as he stepped through the doorway. "Stay back, sir. I got this." Taking his hand of the suspect to motion at Leon to stay back ended up being a fatal mistake. The tide turned so quickly that Leon didn't have a second to react as the suspect ripped away from the officer's grip and forced the man to the ground.

"Hey!" Leon shouted as the assailant sank his teeth into the officer's neck. He wrestled with his gun, trying to get it out of the holster. "Hey! Get off him, right now!"

"Help me!" The officer begged before choking on his own blood.

"What the fuck?!" His gun finally came free, but Leon was frozen with horror as he watched the man rip the officer's throat out with his teeth. The ragged piece of soft tissue dripped a deep red from the grasp of his bony, exposed jaw. Leon was sure he could have counted every single one of his teeth. Rotting, paper-thin skin stretched and tore as he feasted on the mangled, raw flesh. Leon's mind flashed to all those stupid horror movies his brothers would watch on Friday nights with their dates. The girls would scream and cling to them whenever one of those shuffling movie-magic monsters appeared on the screen. The monsters in those films matched this man to a T, with dead eyes, rotting wounds, and the insatiable need to feed. The only difference now was that this wasn't a horror movie.

Those milky white eyes locked on to him and he felt all his breath leave his lungs. It staggered to his feet, snapping Leon back to reality and he quickly raised his gun. "Freeze!" He shouted, praying that his first assessment was wrong, and the man would listen to him. No such luck. "I'll shoot!" It kept coming. He pulled the trigger. The bullet hit true, forcing the man's head back and making it stagger into a shelf. The contents rattled but the man wasn't. The cop part of him that flinched at the thought of firing on a civilian stared in horrified astonishment at the gaping hole in the man's head. It didn't seem to care that a portion of its skull and brain matter now coated the cans of preserved goods next to him. A shot like that should have put him down. Hell, it should have killed him. But it just kept moving, fixated on sinking its teeth into Leon next. This thing wasn't human. Not anymore.

Firing once, twice, the creature finally collapsed next to its forgotten meal. Leon just stood there, desperately trying to remember how to breathe. This wasn't real. This couldn't be real. He stepped forward slowly, trying to keep his footsteps from making a sound that might wake the creature up. He kept his gun trained on it as he knelt next to the officer. Instinct had him checking the body for a pulse, but the gaping hole in his neck and the pool of blood slowly forming around him said that he wouldn't find one.

Leon leaned toward the creature, trying to get a better view of it. It definitely seemed like something a proper Hollywood horror blockbuster would produce, complete with matted hair and ratty clothes. Pieces of it were torn from its body as if something else had been feeding on it. The skin was sloughing off in places that he had only seen during advanced stages of decay.

What really got to him though, was the smell. He could have pretended that all of this was movie magic, but the smell kept him rooted in reality. The stench coming off the body was unlike anything he had ever smelt before. His stomach rolled, and he pressed his hand against his nose, willing himself not to be sick. He was now grateful that he hadn't eaten in a while.

Swallowing thickly, Leon rose and moved around the two bodies. There was a second door that he suspected lead back out to the store and he tried the handle. Locked. Shit. There had to be a key in here somewhere. His eyes landed on the corpses. The thought of digging through the squishy, gore-coated pockets sent his stomach tumbling again. Uh…he'll check the rest of the room first. The flashlight's beam roamed over the shelves and tables. A security box caught his eye from between the shelves with a single key hanging from its hooks.

Bingo.

Stepping carefully as to not hit the bodies, he retrieved the key and hurried back to the door. A hungry growl had him spinning sharply to see the rotting corpse slowly rising to its feet. "No way," Leon gasped, "This can't be!" He had shot the guy! Three times! In the _head_! This wasn't happening. His gun came back up and shot again, sending that thing back to the floor.

Time to go.

He nearly fumbled the key while trying to shove it into the lock. With a faint click came sweet, sweet freedom and he didn't hesitate to throw the door open. A crash to his left sent another one of those things face-first into the floor next to him and he nearly jumped out of his skin. He wanted to run and get as far away from this place as possible, but his brain reminded him of the injured store employee. He turned and spotted the man standing from his crouch. But something was wrong. He was stumbling and swaying and groaning with the same animalistic hunger as the creature in the storage room. He had become one of those things.

Fight-or-flight kicked in and Leon bolted down the center aisle, avoiding the two creatures. More began to enter the fray as one nearly knocked a shelving unit into him as he passed. The front door was five feet ahead.

Flight switched to fight as a body burst through his only exit and his gun raised automatically. "Don't shoot!" She cried hands raised with a small revolver in her right. This girl spoke to him and moved with all the grace and fluidity of the living. She was alive. The body coming up behind her, however, was not.

"Get down!" She obeyed without question.

A single shot exploded through the creature's skull and it dropped like a puppet with cut strings. He took a cautionary glance behind him before joining the girl outside. "You alright?" He asked stopping next to her.

"Yeah, I think so." She replied turning to look at him. "Thanks."

"You can thank me later when we're safe." He nodded to the growing horde of undead steadily, surrounding them. How were there so many now when the place was completely deserted before?

"Holy shit." The woman whispered in horror, and Leon couldn't help but agree. They couldn't fight them all. He didn't have enough bullets for that and there was no way the girl's tiny revolver held more than five rounds. They both nearly screamed as a loud bang behind them revealed that another one from inside had reached the front door. This is was becoming very bad, very fast. If he didn't do something quick, they both were going to become zombie food. Remembering the abandoned police car, his eyes snapped to it. The horde hadn't completely boxed them in yet. They could make it. Hopefully, this girl was fast.

"Come on!" He nodded toward the car and the girl seemed to understand. They both rushed for the vehicle. One lunged for him, attempting to get those filly hands on him, but he side-stepped and ducked underneath its sweeping arms. He reached the driver's side and threw open the door.

"Get in!" He cried as the girl shoved another away.

The minute he heard the door slam shut, he put it in reverse. "Hold on!" He gunned it. Tires squealed, the car spun a one-eighty before Leon put her back in drive and shot for the road, leaving the dead infested gas station behind.

Leon had barely breathed out a sigh of relief when the girl started speaking. "What the hell is going on?"

"I don't know." He answered honestly. "Hopefully they'll have some answers at the police station."

The girl looked shocked. "Wait, you're a cop?"

"Yeah, Leon Kennedy. You are?" He gave her a once over. Taking in the dark jeans and a ruby red leather jacket. Dark hair was pulled back into a functional ponytail with bangs loose around her face. She looked young, like a college student fresh out of high school. A girl like her really shouldn't be by herself at night. Though, he had a feeling she could take care of herself if that move she pulled at the gas station was anything to go by.

"Claire. Claire Redfield." She kept glancing nervously out the window and he followed her example by continuously checking the rearview mirrors. Nothing seemed to be chasing them…so far.

"You live around here?" He asked trying to shake off the dread that was building in his chest.

"No, looking for my brother. He's a cop too."

"Well, it's a good thing we found each other. I don't know what to expect anymore."

They lapsed into a tense silence as the car sped down the highway, passing a large sign. 'Welcome to Raccoon City. Home of Umbrella.'

Well, this certainly wasn't the welcome he had been expecting.


	2. City of the Dead

"_Attention all citizens. Due to the city-wide outbreak, you are advised to take shelter at the Raccoon City Police Station. Free food and medical supplies will be provided to everyone in need."_ The broadcast repeated.

"Oh my god, this is so unreal…" Claire muttered, slouching back in her seat as Leon guided the cruiser through the crowded city streets. Abandoned vehicles, some burning and some not littered the road. Broken and flickering streetlights were lost amongst the flaming buildings. Undead, shadowed and nestled in festering pockets of the city, shambled on the sidewalks and opening of alleyways. They could almost make out their muffled grunts and groans as they passed. How did everything go to hell so fast?

"The police stations not much farther. They'll know something." Leon assured, not quite believing what he was seeing either.

"Yeah, but… what if we're the only ones? What if there are no survivors?" Claire questioned, bringing to life the fear that was burrowing its way into his chest.

Leon shook his head. "No, there are survivors." He gazed at the burning hell looming in front of them. "It's a big city…there has to be." He refused to think that they were the only ones left alive in this hell hole. Any other thought was too daunting to think of.

A roadblock inched closer and the car coasted to a gentle stop. "Looks like we're walking from here."

Muffled noises drew Claire's attention to the window. A couple of zombies were gathered on the sidewalk, steadily tearing into a corpse. Her stomach rolled as a head turned towards the car, blood and flesh dripping from its gaping mouth. "More like running," she muttered.

Leon followed her gaze. "Yeah, good call."

A slam against his window had them both flinching in their seats. "Jesus Christ!" He cried as Claire let out a startled scream. The growling zombie banged against the glass, attracting others to the prospect of fresh meat. The car was soon covered and rocking with the onslaught of bodies.

"Leon, we gotta back up!" Claire stated. The car was creaking, and she wasn't sure how long the glass would hold against the incredible pressure of the undead. Their odds of survival were dwindling by the second. Turning to see if the back window was free, her heart jumped into her throat at the view behind them. "What the-"

Having just put the cruiser in reverse, a blinding flash of light crossed the rearview mirror and Leon glanced back. A semi-truck barreled towards them, undeterred by the walking corpses in its path. "Holy shit." His eyes widened. "Claire, get out! Get out, now!"

They both scrambled for their door handles, shoulders slamming against the plastic and metal to force them open. The horde's force on the other side was too much. "I can't!" Claire cried, trying desperately not to panic. It was no use.

They were trapped.

Seeing no other option, Leon shouted out a new order, "Hold on!" He braced himself against the steering wheel as Claire did the same with the dashboard. Their bodies tense in anticipation of the oncoming collision. The semi-truck suddenly turned, colliding with the abandoned cars framing the road. He could see it weaving and sending sparks into the air as it scraped the cars. The light in the mirror grew and Leon squeezed his eyes shut.

He heard the impact a split second before his body felt it. The crunch of metal against metal grated against his ears as their vehicle was thrown through the barrier. His head connected painfully with the hard leather of the steering wheel and he grunted. He heard the squeal of tires and the grind of concrete. There was a second shock of pain when the car slammed to a stop.

Head buzzing from the noise and trauma, Leon opened the door and collapsed to the ground. He scrambled to his feet just as the car burst into flames. "Woah!" He raised his arms to shield his face from the sudden heat. The semi-truck was cradled on its side, slowly leaking. It took him all of two seconds to realize exactly what the truck had been towing. Gasoline. His heart jumped.

"Oh no," He got no more than three steps in before the whole thing was engulfed in a giant ball of fire, the concussive wave sending him careening into the side of another vehicle. He groaned, back and side pulsing with pain as he pushed himself back onto his feet. Ears ringing, he gazed around at the wreckage and found himself alone, heart pounding in his chest.

"Claire! Claire, are you okay?!" He called, desperate to hear her voice. Please, _please_, don't let her be dead. Precious seconds crawled by before he heard a reply.

"Yeah, I'm alright. How about you?" He sighed in relief.

A symphony of moans grabbed his attention from the flames. The growing horde nearly had him surrounded. "I can't stay here. It's not safe." He backed slowly towards the heat.

"Go on ahead!" Claire called over the crackling and groans. "I'll meet you at the station!"

"I'll be there!" Pulling Matilda out of her holster, he took off in the opposite direction of the fire, the horde, and Claire. By god, she better not have lied to him. He wasn't sure he'd be able to survive this nightmare by himself.

This was out of control. More and more zombies crawled out of the woodwork the farther into the city he went. The scattering of cars had turned the roads into mazes, with each dead end filled with the undead. He slipped past zombies rising, stumbling, and feeding before ducking into an alley. The body of a woman growled and twitched as he went by before flames engulfed her. Shit! It's everybody! They've all turned! It was either that or they've become food for someone else. This nightmare just kept on getting worse.

The alley soon opened up and his sights set on the majesty that was the Raccoon City Police Station. It stood like a sentinel against the chaos that ravaged its city. Now, he just needed to get there. Dogging zombies left and right, and even one attempting to squeeze its way out of a flaming yellow school bus, he reached the wrought iron gates. They were a lot heavier than they looked and it was quite satisfying to slam them shut and slide the lock into place. The creatures threw themselves against the metal, but the gates held fast, and he breathed out a sigh of relief. Turning to face the large, ornate door of the police station, he prayed that there was someone still alive that could explain to him what the hell was going on.

"Hello? Is anyone here?" His voice echoed off the stone columns as the door swung shut behind him. Silence greeted him. The once-grand building that housed the proud police force of Racoon City was now nothing more than a desolate triage center. It no longer stood tall like it had when he had been here a few weeks ago for his initial job interview. Storage bins of canned food and medical cots dotted the space of the lobby, the privacy curtains around them seemed useless amongst the emptiness of the hall. The bloody footprints that peppered the usually pristine, intricate marble floors seemed directionless, leading to nowhere and everywhere at the same time. This was no longer the glorious police station he had seen once before. It was a tomb.

Blue eyes caught a glaring red screen of a state-of-the-art laptop resting on a fold-out table just behind the receptionist's counter. It bore the crimson symbol of the RPD logo, which seemed much more orange to him now compared to all the blood on the floor. Tapping a key, Leon pulled up the building's surveillance cameras. "There has to be someone here," he muttered, cycling through all the functioning cameras on the first floor.

Movement in Cam 4 drew his eyes. Gunshots flared against the screen as groans drifted through the speakers. He switched to Cam 3 as what appeared to be another officer began speaking to the camera.

"David! Marvin! You there?! I found a way out! It's in here!" The officer held up what looked like a notebook before it was switched out for the officer's sidearm. Another gunshot didn't stop the approaching zombie and the officer had to shove it away. "Send reinforcements! East hallway!" The officer cried before running off the screen with the zombie giving chase.

A few more taps of the keys had Leon bringing up a quick map of the lower East side of the building. A flashing red symbol showed him which camera had been recording the incident. Seeing as there wasn't a 'Marvin' or a 'David' to send as backup, it looked as if Leon was going to be the reinforcements. "I gotta find that guy."

The entrance to the East side was sealed tight behind a metal shutter with a sign taped to it. 'Keep Out'. Sorry, no can do. He pulled the lever and nearly groaned when the shutter only rose about two feet. Damn it, he was going to have to crawl.

Lying down on his stomach, Leon did his best to ignore the blood seeping into his clothes. His flashlight barely made a dent in the inky blackness of the hallway. There was no movement, no sound, that indicated anything living or undead inside. He pulled his body under the shutter and got to his feet. Blood coated the opposite wall and he tried not to grimace at the tacky look and feel of it under his sneakers.

Water rippled out across the floor as he moved, the sloshing making each footstep frighteningly loud. A hastily boarded door to his left creaked as he moved past it. Best not to think about what lay behind it. His heart was pounding in his ears, his breath stinted. "You got this," he whispered to himself, trying to stay calm.

The beam of his flashlight reflected off a metal cabinet that had fallen, blocking his path forward. Taking a deep breath, he wrapped his hands around the edges and pushed with his legs. The cabinet creaked and groaned before it slammed back into position and he froze, ears straining for any sign that his actions had been heard. A few seconds of eerie silence passed before he allowed himself to continue.

All this pressing silence was messing with his head. Every noise was deafening, and he couldn't tell what was real and what was his imagination. The dark wasn't helping his nerves in the slightest. Turning the corner, he was met with a sight that caused his stomach to recoil. Bodies littered the corridor, some in pieces with blood and guts decorating the walls and others remaining whole but hauntingly still. All of them were in some stage of decay.

"Jesus." There was definitely not a course about dealing with the undead at the academy, and if there had been he had clearly missed it.

"Open up!" Leon flinched hard at the booming voice that echoed down the corridor. "Hurry! Open up!" The voice was desperate as he threw open the door to the watchman's room. "Open this goddamn door!" He could hear the grunting and the sound of someone banging on the shutter.

"I'll get you out!" Leon called as he crouched. Grabbing the edge of the shutter, he strained to lift it enough for the officer to squeeze through. A hand clutching something tightly was the first thing to appear and Leon all but lunged for it.

"Help me! Please, help me!" The man cried trying to wriggle the rest of his body under the shutter.

"Gimme your hand," Leon ordered, grabbing the offered appendage and pulling him through the best he could. "I got you."

The officer's upper body cleared the shutter and he rolled over. "Give me your other hand." The officer reached up towards him, but just as their hands met blood sprayed out around them from the other side of the shutter. The officer let out a blood-curdling scream of agony, terrifying Leon to the point where he too wanted to scream. Luckily enough, his training was able to keep him from doing so. If he started, he wasn't sure he'd be able to stop. Not sure what else to do, Leon kept pulling. Maybe they still had a chance. "Hang in there!" He wasn't quite sure if he was speaking to the officer or himself. Giving one last hard tug, the officer cleared the shutter door.

Or at least…half of him did.

"Oh my god." His entrails were hanging out of the end of what was left of his torso as distorted hands shot out from the crack under the shutter, trying to get as much of that delicious soft tissue as they could. Leon knelt by the officer's head, useless hands resting on his shoulders. His first aid training manual didn't have a section on hemicorporectomy.

"Jesus Christ." Leon watched the life leave the officer's eyes as he stilled under his hands. He hadn't even known his name. A growl and a bang had his head snapping up, fearing that the creatures might break through. The shutter held.

A small, brown, leather-bound notebook lay next to the officer's empty hand. This must have been what he was trying to give him. Flipping through the pages and ignoring the part of his brain that chastised him for invading the dead officer's privacy, Leon took note of what looked like a crudely drawn map with symbols sketched on the back. It must have been important if the officer pushed it through before himself. Leon pocketed the small notebook, took one last look at the fallen police officer, and stood. He felt as if he had overstayed his welcome.

The door that led back into the hallway rattled and Leon froze, gun immediately lifting. It rattled again and again before bursting open to reveal a zombified police officer. He pulled the trigger, a bullet exploded from his Matilda before slamming into its head, sending blood and brain matter splattering against the wall. The zombie collapsed, and Leon wasted no time in running for the door.

Glass shattered behind him as he ran back down the hall, ripping a startled yell from him and spurring him on. There was another crash, this time ahead of him, and the sound of splintering wood, informing him that the trapped zombies had broken free. Two more appeared in front of him.

"Jesus! They're everywhere!" He cried, lifting his gun. Two more bullets found their marks, sending the bodies to the floor as he kept running. The glowing red Exit sign stood out like a beacon in the dark as he reached the shutter to his salvation. Leon practically threw himself onto the floor, only realizing too late that the shutter had dropped a bit since he had gone through the first time. His head fit under just fine, but his shoulder caught the edge of the metal and kept him from moving any farther. This was so not happening. He was not going to die like that other officer. Wedging his right arm under, he struggled to push it up just enough for the rest of him.

"Come on!" The shutter lifted with a grind and he crawled forward. He was nearly in the clear when something grabbed his leg. He glanced back to see a rotting face snarling back at him as decayed hands began using him as leverage to move forward under the shutter. "Goddamn it!"

He couldn't move. He couldn't do anything to save himself. His gun was in its holster at his thigh, directly under the hands of the zombie. He was about to become dinner for an undead corpse. Combat boots entered his line of sight and something else grabbed him to pull him out of death's grip.

"Watch out!" He warned as those boots approached the struggling zombie.

"Got it." The boots slammed the shutter closed, crushing its skull beneath it. Following up the line of this new officer's uniform, Leon met the face of his savior. The dark skin was a sickly gray and dotted with sweat. A hand covered a ghastly, yet bandaged wound on his right side. "You're safe…for now." The officer groaned in pain and collapsed back against the shutter.

"Thanks," Leon panted, trying to get his breath back.

The officer nodded, "Marvin Branagh."

"Leon Kennedy. There was another officer. I-I couldn't… I couldn't…" He couldn't finish. Couldn't stop seeing that officer being torn in half by rotting hands. He couldn't do a lot of things, it seemed.

"Here," Leon glanced up to see a bloodied hand being offered to him. He hesitated for a moment before grabbing it and letting himself be pulled to his feet. "I'm sure you did what you could, Leon." It didn't seem like enough.

"Come on," Branagh brushed past him back toward the lobby. He bypassed the reception area and climbed the ramp to the foot of the goddess statue. There were a few privacy screens with a cot in the middle and a couple of couches that were clustered around two supply crates currently serving as a makeshift table. The laptop he had used before was resting there, showing the cameras from the East Wing. Seems Branagh had seen him snooping through the halls.

"There's a fresh uniform in one of those crates to your right." Branagh gestured to the boxes lining the far wall. "I actually think it's yours. None of us could fit it. We kept it though. Thought it might be useful. Seems like it was." The man was rambling, but Leon didn't bother to stop him as he retrieved the clothing. It was actually comforting to hear another human voice amidst this nightmare. It made him really miss Claire. He hoped she made it, if not here, then at least to some place safe.

"Thank you," Leon muttered as he slipped behind a privacy curtain. The front of his clothes was stained with the blood from the floor and he tried not to shudder as he removed them. His breath was getting shorter with each button. His hands wouldn't stop shaking. Closing his eyes, he forced his breathing to slow. _Calm down,_ he urged. His mind's voice taking on the soothing baritone of his father. _It'll do you no good to panic. Take a few minutes, some deep breaths, then keep going_. Once his heart no longer felt like it was trying to burst from his chest, he continued.

The uniform still held the stiffness of new clothing, but it was much cleaner and smelled a lot better than his. The soft cotton of the undershirt felt nice against his skin and covered him completely to his wrists. The navy uniform shirt buttoned nicely over top and he tucked it in out of habit. Threading his black belt back through the loops, he synched it tight before discarding his soiled clothes in one of the bins by the ramp.

Marching back to the crates, Leon found a pair of boots in his size and he switched them out with his white sneakers. A bulletproof vest fastened across his chest and a utility belt hung around his hips. He attached a two-way radio to it before running the wire up his back to the speaker at his shoulder. Matilda followed next, clipping to the belt and strapping to his right thigh. He finished off the uniform with knee and elbow pads, adjusting the latter so it wouldn't interfere with his mobility.

"Does anyone know what started this?" He questioned, stepping out from behind the curtains.

"Not a clue," Branagh replied, cycling through the CCTV footage. "But honestly, all you need to know is that this place will eat you alive if you aren't careful."

Leon pulled back the slide of his gun to make sure a round was in the chamber. "Yeah…well, I was supposed to start last week, and I got a call to stay away." He holstered Matilda. "I wish I'd come here sooner."

"You're here now, Leon. That's all that matters." Branagh glanced over the drawings in the salvaged notebook as Leon checked the mouthpiece at his shoulder, flicking it on and off to hear the static on the other end. All of his equipment was in working order.

"Ok, Lieutenant," he stepped up to the man's side, "I'm ready." He spoke the last part with all the confidence he could muster.

"Hopefully, you'll be able to find a way out of this station. That officer you met earlier, Elliot?" Leon nodded. How could he ever forget? "He thought this secret passageway might do the trick."

Leon took the bloodied notebook, eyes roaming over the hastily drawn map. Hope started making him feel a little lighter. "This is good news. We can get you to a hospital."

Branagh shook his head. "No, no. I am not the priority here."

"Lieutenant, I'm not just going to leave you here-"

"I'm giving you an order, rookie!" Branagh snapped, his voice echoing around the empty hall. "You save yourself first. I'd come with you, but I'd just slow you down."

The stubbornness of this guy. Leon had known him of all of twenty minutes and the urge to shake some sense into him was strong. He settled for a heavy sigh.

"Now…you'll need this." Branagh stood, holding out a worn combat knife.

"I can't take-"

"Stop."

Leon stood still for a moment, watching as Branagh refused to meet his gaze. He knew something Leon didn't. The hope slowly faded away with each haggard breath the Lieutenant managed to take. Leon took the handle and was a little surprised when the Lieutenant used it to pull him in close. He could see the red that rimmed the man's eyes from exhaustion and fear. Leon had a feeling he was going to carry that same look by the end of the night.

"And don't make my mistake," he hissed. "If you see one of those things- uniform or not- you do not hesitate. You take it out…or you run. Got it?"

Eyes wide, Leon nodded. "Yes, sir."

Grunting, Branagh nearly collapsed back onto the couch, his hand gripping the leather with enough force to tear it. The other pressed against his wound as if he was trying to keep his insides _inside_. Leon wished there was something more he could do to help the man that had saved his life, but what more could he do except what he had been told? The goddess statue gazed down at him with empty, white eyes. It was as if she had judged him and found him lacking. The door to their escape was sealed somewhere beyond the marble and a pretty face, but Branagh seemed resigned to his fate, hope draining faster than his blood. Blue eyes narrowed. He was going to get them out of this hell hole. He'd find the exit, even if he had to take a sledgehammer to that pile of flawless stone. Taking a deep, cleansing breath, Leon squared his shoulders.

Time to get to work.


	3. Meet Me at the Start

The floor creaked with each step and he had to force himself forward. Despite his nerves being shot and his breath coming out in shallow pants, Leon's grip on Matilda was steady. The third floor seemed deserted but given the shit he's already gone through in this station; he's learned to never trust the silence. Every corner brought a new sense of danger and anxiety.

A shadow of a female figure against the far wall stopped him in his tracks. Leon breathing stilled as he waited, listening for any sort of noise. There was no movement from the shadow. No heavy breathing or decaying moans. Cautiously, he moved forward, his heart hammering away at his sternum. He let out a relieved puff of air when the culprit was revealed to be nothing more than a miniaturized mannequin with no arms. The damned thing nearly gave him a heart attack. He sent it a half-hearted glare before continuing through the next door.

The darkened hallway was like something out of the Twilight Zone, seemingly stretching on forever no matter how far he went. Keeping one foot in front of the other, Leon's steps faltered at the monstrous growl that echoed through the enclosed space. A shadow darted across the window.

"What in the-" Leon's bewilderment turned to terror as a crash, accompanied by shattering glass froze him to his spot. There was something more than just zombies in this hell hole and whatever it was…it was in the building. As time stretched on and he remained rooted to his place, Leon closed his eyes to calm his breathing as the lack of any following sound seemed to both reassure and unsettle him. _Calm down, don't panic. Calm down_. He repeated to himself over and over again until his heart no longer felt like it was going to burst from his chest. Just keep moving.

Rounding the corner had him coming face to face with yet another barricade, and he didn't know whether to be grateful that it was there or be annoyed at the tower of furniture blocking his path. This left only one door for him to go through, and he entered a room that reminded him a little of his grandparent's attic, minus all the blood and mounds of God-knows-what gathered in the corners. The space was filled with old furniture and art that must have been leftover from the building's days as an art museum. There was even a creepy-ass clown doll that he would have loved to put a bullet in had he not been trying to conserve ammo. He's seen _It_.

He turned another corner and nearly had another heart attack at seeing the body hanging from the ceiling. The sound that came out of his mouth was not at all manly when the body was suddenly tugged on by gravity. He was really starting to get sick of jumping at every noise and movement. The sooner he got out of here, the better.

A towering, female silhouette drew him forward, and he nearly cheered upon realizing what it was. Good news, he had found the maiden statue. Bad news, the statue was sealed behind iron bars, sturdy wooden planks, and a shit ton of C4. The smell of rotting flesh pretty much permeated the walls of the police station, but here it seemed much stronger. Now, he knew why. Someone had locked a few of the police officers in with the statue. Whether or not they had been alive when it happened was not something he wanted to know. There were a couple of sheets of loose-leaf paper resting on a table directly across from the makeshift cell and, against his better judgment, he skimmed through them. The chicken scratch scribbled along the sheets caused his already sickened stomach to recoil even further.

_Damn those corporate assholes! They cut me off! After all I've done for them! But if that's how it's gonna be, so be it. I'm gonna have a little fun of my own as the world goes to shit._

_I boarded all those filthy pigs up in a steel pen, and set some C4. All I gotta do is detonate it and it's "sayonara suckers!"_

_But it's no fun if it's over too soon, so maybe I'll give that one raving loon something to really squeal about._

_Yeah, maybe I'll give him a little toy and tell him, "kill the guy next to you and I'll spare the others." I wonder what he'll do._

_You yell about "justice" and "pride" but how many times did you go against me, your own superior?_

_Yeah, you're such a good cop…so good you had to die._

_Man this is fun. I need some music for this._

Trying to suppress the urge to vomit, Leon sneered at the writings and tossed them away in disgust. There _were_ more monsters here than just zombies, and not all of them were dead. He maneuvered widely around the hanging zombie to reach the door to the exit. The light that filled the doorway nearly blinded him after the near pitch blackness of the storage room and he had to blink the spots from his vision. He was in a library. Shelves of books lined the walls and he nearly found himself relaxing. Libraries had always been a safe haven for him, especially during high school and the academy. It was such a shame to see it in such disrepair and chaos.

His ears picked up on the sickening sound of ripping flesh and he peered over the banister. At least two zombies were up and shuffling around the room, while one of them was digging into the body of its comrade. There were even more bodies dotting the floor all around the room. Perhaps it was best to avoid the bottom floor completely.

Static tickled his ear before Marvin's voice drifted through the speaker on his left shoulder. "_Leon, its Marvin. I need you back here ASAP._"

A little concerned, Leon answered. "Are you okay, Marvin?"

"_I've got something to show you. It's important._"

"Copy that, I'll be right there."

Now he had to figure out how to get back there from here. There should be another way into the main hall through the lower floor but…zombies. The opposite door, however, looked promising and it took him away from the flesh-eating corpses. Opposite door it was. Rounding the banister, he was unprepared when the floor suddenly decided to give out underneath him, sending him to the ground with a startled yelp. This is exactly where he _didn't _want to be. The answering cries of the zombies had him ignoring the sharp pains from his fall and sent him flying to his feet. Three of them now made a b-line for him, nearly trapping him in the corner. He maneuvered around them, raised Matilda, and dropped one right after another with some well-placed bullets to the head. This was really starting to get on his nerves.

He left the library as quickly as he could, unlocking a side door, and finding himself on the second floor of the main hall. Huh, so that's where that door went. He hurried down the stairs.

"There you are…" Marvin called, noticing his approach. The lieutenant looked even worse than before, much worse. His skin seemed greyer, almost translucent and he was slouched into the couch. His hand trembled with each command he typed into the computer. His words were overlaid with pain and his chest rattled with each breath. "Come here…take a look."

The image on the screen enlarged to reveal an area situated outside the building. It focused on a girl that stood just outside the side gate. His heart soared. "Yes!" He exclaimed with a wide grin. "I knew she'd make it."

Marvin stared at him, an expression of surprise on his sweaty face. "You know her?"

"Yeah, name's Claire. I came into town with her."

"You can get to that courtyard through the second floor…east side." The lieutenant gestured behind him with a grimace, the action seemed to put a strain on his injured side.

Leon followed the movement, brain planning out a route from what he could remember of the maps. "I'm on it." His gaze returned to the wounded officer. "Thanks, Lieutenant."

* * *

A wall of flame now separated her and Leon, and Claire wanted to scream. What a shit day this was turning out to be. Jen was right. Somehow, she always manages to get herself into trouble. Whether she was looking for it or not. Revolver in her hand, she took off, trusting her vague memories of the city will help her find an alternate route to the station.

More and more zombies were making their appearances, attracted by the deafening sound of the explosion. Weaving around them, Claire ducked into a nearby diner to avoid the growing masses. The building was disgusting. Gore decorated the walls and floors like a sick impressionistic painting. A few of the tables and booths still held leftovers of abandoned meals, spoiled and covered in bugs. Note to self: don't eat the mystery meat. Hearing something that sounded way too nasty to belong in a family-friendly diner, Claire peered over the counter and spied another one of those things munching on what appeared to be the short-order cook. Jesus, if you don't like the food, you could've just said. Stepping as quietly as possible, she headed for the back door. As if sensing her presence, the zombie growled and began to stand. _No, no, no, don't get up on my account_, Claire thought, quickening her pace. _I'm sorry to have bothered you. Please, go back to your meal and ignore the tasty college student running for her life. _

Cursing under her breath, she burst through the door. The shambling corpses filling the alley forced her back onto the burning city street. There was nowhere to go. Zombies were closing in from all sides and her stupid revolver only carried five shots. It wasn't enough. This was it. This was how she was going to die, turned into dinner for the disgustingly smelly undead. She just hoped Leon made it to the station.

A shot exploded through the air and the zombie's head to her left burst like an overripe watermelon. "Hey!" She whirled around to see a girl waving frantically at her from an open doorway. "Over here! Quickly!"

Claire made a break for it, dodging around grabby hands with the girl taking potshots at her pursuers. She slipped past her into the building and the girl slammed the door closed behind her, locking it tight. Leaning against the wall, Claire struggled to get her breathing under control. "Thanks," she panted. That's the second time someone's saved her ass tonight.

"What the hell were you thinking, standing out in the middle of the street like that?!" The girl scolded, moving deeper into the room.

"I was thinking that I was going to die out there, so thanks."

"Yeah, well, I just wasted precious ammunition on saving your ass, so be faster next time."

_What a bitch_, Claire thought silently to herself. She sent the blonde a glare to her jumpsuit-covered back before silently taking in her surroundings. The glass cases containing different models of guns had her eyes lighting up. "Is this Kendo's?" She asked almost excited.

"No," the girl replied busily reloading her weapon at one of the counters. "That's about five blocks away. This is Cetcham's."

Damn, she was a lot farther from the station than she thought. "I'm Claire, by the way," she introduced, moving in closer.

The girl never looked up her task. "Eliza Walker."

"Do you know what's going on here?"

That got her attention. "You don't?"

Claire shook her head. "I just got here."

"You should have stayed away." Eliza moved around, rifling through the shop for more ammo and ignoring Claire's heated glare.

"I came to find my brother."

"Hate to break it to you, honey, but he's probably dead."

White-hot fury burst through her and Claire itched to put a bullet through the bitch's brain, savior or not. "You couldn't possibly know that." She hissed through gritted teeth.

Eliza just shrugged. "Pretty much everyone in this city is dead. It's not that big of a leap to make."

"My brother is S.T.A.R.S. He doesn't go down that easily."

The blonde gave Claire a look that did nothing more than piss her off further. She yearned to smack it off her smug little face. "S.T.A.R.S was disbanded over a month ago."

Claire's blood turned to ice. "What?"

"Yeah, sometime in July. They kept telling some crazy story about monsters in the mountains and got their asses fired." Eliza let out a humorless chuckle. "Doesn't seem so crazy now. I doubt they stuck around."

Shoulders hunched, Claire practically deflated at the other girl's words. "I'm sorry," Eliza said softly.

This… this couldn't be right. It wasn't like Chris at all. "No," she shook her head. "He wouldn't leave without telling me. Chris wouldn't do that." He wouldn't do that. Why would he not tell her? He was all she had left. They were supposed to be in this together. No secrets. Damn it, Chris! She was going to kill him when she found him…if he wasn't dead already. She shook her head harshly.

"I'll find him. There's got to be some clue about where he went. Maybe back at the police station," she straightened. "Is there a backdoor in this place?"

"Sure. You got more ammo for that?" Eliza asked, nodding toward her revolver.

"Fresh out."

The blonde hummed. "Well, I'm out of nine-millimeter bullets, but I do have this." She reached under the counter and pulled out a gun that looked like it belonged more in the Wild West than the zombie apocalypse. "I've never been much of a quick shot. You might make more use of this than me."

"Are you sure?" Claire asked hesitating to take the gun. "You might need it."

"Nah," Eliza handed it to her. "I don't fancy saving your ass twice. It isn't that pretty."

"Excuse me?!" Claire replied with a snort. "I'll have you know that my ass is gorgeous." All she got was a soft giggle as she pushed the cylinder out to check for rounds. Empty. "Got any ammo for this thing?"

Two packs of bullets landed on the counter. "It takes forty-fives, so horde them."

"Thanks." Quickly loading six rounds, she clicked the cylinder back into place.

"Take the lot." Claire opened her mouth to protest, but Eliza just waved her off. "I don't have anything that uses forty-fives. Just take them."

Nodding, Claire slipped the ammo into her back pouch. "Take this too." Eliza held out a round army-green hand grenade. Claire raised an eyebrow and Eliza just shrugged. "You never know." She took the grenade.

"Why don't you come with me?" Claire suggested. "We could both find a way out of this hell hole."

Eliza shook her head. "I can't. It may be a hell hole, but it's still my home. I can't just leave it."

"Eliza, there isn't anything left."

"I'm not leaving, Claire." She snapped before quickly deflating. "I can't."

Claire sighed through her nose. "Fine, just don't get yourself killed."

"Same to you."

Both girls jumped at a sudden bang on the front window. Seems that had been found as a zombie carelessly threw itself against the glass, begging to be let in. Like hell.

"Will it hold?" Claire asked, eyes fixed on the creature.

"It has so far." Eliza reached behind the counter one more time and pulled out a Winchester shotgun. Making sure it was loaded, she gave it a solid pump. "Get out of here, Claire. Go find your brother."

"What about you?"

"I'll be fine, just get going."

Claire paused for a moment, watching the girl, who didn't seem much older than herself, gear up to defend her home. Who knows, under different circumstances, they might have become friends. "Thank you," she said gently.

"Get the hell out of here!" Eliza hissed.

Forcing herself to turn away, Claire reached the backdoor and cautiously pushed it open. No movement. No zombies. She glanced back once, before letting the door shut behind her.

Not a second after she entered the alley, there was the sound of shattering glass and the boom of a shotgun firing behind her. Claire spun back, determined to help, when she froze. There was no door handle. Where the fuck was the door handle?! She pounded against the metal. "Eliza!" A bloodcurdling scream chilled her to the bone. "_Eliza!_" Nothing.

Claire closed her eyes against the hot burn of tears. This wasn't happening. A strangled growl from the mouth of the alley spurred her into action. She just had to keep moving.

* * *

It took forever to reach the station. She kept having to backtrack and go around as cars, debris, and zombies blocked her at every turn. When she finally reached the side gate to the building, she slammed it closed and slide the lock into place with a loud, relieved sigh. She made it.

Turning, she stopped short. The small grassy courtyard had been turned into an impromptu graveyard. A little more than a dozen wooden planks stood as makeshift markers for the freshly dug graves. This was so unreal. _Leon, I'm sure you beat me here,_ she thought, _and not currently occupying one of these graves_. A cold shiver trickled down her spine as she moved on, careful not to step on any of the overturned mud. One of the graves appeared to be unfinished. She gave it a wide berth.

A sharp choppy sound echoed through the tunnel that had offered a temporary reprieve from the never-ending rain. It took Claire a minute to figure out what it was. A helicopter. A helicopter was coming. Hope flared to life at the idea of a rescue. Finally, she could get out of here.

The sound grew louder before a massive bang and the clatter of brick ended it. She ran around the corner and the hope died quickly. You've got to be fucking kidding. There, smashed against the side of the RPD station, was a rescue chopper. So much for that idea.

There was a whine of hinges and Claire looked up to see a figure moving near the wreckage. "Hey!" She called. Maybe… "Leon?!"

The very person she had wanted to see peeked over the edge of the railing and she could help but smile. "Claire! Hold on, I'll be right there!"

"Okay!" He made it. Thank God, he made it. She watched as he rushed down the metal stairs and stopped just on the other side of the gate. She tried to keep her face neutral as she took in his new appearance. He had said he was a cop, but hot damn does he look good in the uniform. No, bad Claire. No flirting.

"Claire. It's so nice to see you."

"How you doin'?" Damn it, she said no flirting, brain. She focused her attention on something else. "That helicopter just came out of nowhere…"

"Yeah," he replied trying to nonchalantly wave it off. "I'm in one piece."

She looked him up and down, taking in the utility belt and gun strapped to his thigh. He certainly did fill out that uniform nicely. Stop it. "I'm guessing you don't have a key in one of those fancy pockets?"

"Unfortunately, no…but, how are you doing?" That voice was so sweet and sincere. It almost made her want to break down and tell him everything. She tried to play it cool.

"You know, just surviving." Not that cool. She nearly face-palmed when her body automatically went into the typical "come here often?" move. Jesus _Christ_, Claire. Could you _be_ any more obvious?!

Her response drew a breathy chuckle from him. "That's good." Holy shit, that smile was dangerous. "Any luck with your brother?"

That sobered her up quickly and her smile faded. "No, not yet."

Her change in tone triggered something inside him and he stepped closer, grabbing hold of the gate and urging her to listen. "Claire, don't lose hope. I'm sure we're gonna find him."

The crashed helicopter exploded, sending a ball of fire and heat into the sky and startling them. Well, that wasn't good. "Damn it," Leon cursed turning back to Claire. "You know what that means."

"Yeah," Claire slowly drew her revolver, watching as the dead reanimated with a single ring of a bell. "Dinner time."


	4. A Rookie's First Asignment

"Claire, I think you should go." Blue eyes fixed on the rocking fence only a yard away, Claire could hear the tension in his voice.

"Don't worry about me, Leon. You take care of yourself."

The ones inside the enclosure were beginning to stir, rising from the ground with all the grace their emancipated and mutilated bodies could give. It wouldn't be long before she was surrounded. The chain-link fence rattled when Leon tugged against it. "Claire you need to go…Now!" He urged. The iron fences protested the weight of the bodies pressed against it. Leon wasn't sure how long it would last before the entire thing gave out completely and he wanted Claire long gone before that happened.

The pressure inside her chest built as she frantically searched for a way out. She knew she could backtrack, returning to the muddied graveyard before the path was cut off completely, but a large part of her loathed to be separated from the only other living person on this side of hell. Claire was not going to leave without him.

Eyes locked on the barbed wire twirling along the top of the chain-link fence, and a light bulb flipped on in her brain. Claire turned her gaze to the man on the other side. "Cover me," she commanded before holstering her weapon and unzipping her jacket.

She ignored the tightness in her stomach as Leon's gun rose. Ignored the shuffling sounds growing louder behind her. Ignored the freezing rain pelting her exposed skin. She could do this. She had to. Clamping her jacket between her teeth, Claire hooked her hands in the gaps between the links, shoved her boot against the slick metal, and began to climb.

Leon had to admit, climbing the fence hadn't even crossed his mind. He would've backtracked to find another way in, but this girl was determined. It was kind of impressive. Keeping his eyes trained on the undead lumbering closer, he pulled the trigger and tried not to feel too much satisfaction when the nearest zombie's head popped like a zit.

Claire tried not to jump at the sound of the shot. The rain didn't let up, making a single momentary slip-up a disaster waiting to happen. Not that she needed any more of those. Still, these boots weren't made for this type of activity and she could barely get any traction. Thankfully, she reached the top without losing her grip. Pulling her jacket from between her teeth, Claire spread it out across as much of the barbed wire as she could. It was as good as it was going to get. Quickly throwing her leg over, she winced when her jeans caught one of the barbs and let out a rip that was barely audible over the noise of the fire and groans. There were two more shots as she gently unsnagged her jacket from the sharp claws of the wire and dropped to the ground next to the young officer. Leon gave her a smile that warmed her to her toes. "Not bad," he commented as she slipped back into her jacket.

"I aim to please." She replied with a smile of her own. Glancing down, Claire whined when she saw a large hole in her pants right along her right shin. "Damn it! These were my favorite pair of jeans!"

An angry snarl had them both turning to the zombies attempting to reach through the fence, frustrated that their meal had escaped. "We should get out of here," Leon stated, reaching for the radio on his shoulder. "Marvin, we've got a situation here. We're surrounded by zombies."

No reply came through the speaker.

A little concerned, he tried again. "Marvin! Do you copy?" No answer.

"Marvin?!" Nothing.

"Damn it!" They needed to get back to the main hall. Now.

Leon tugged on the side door to test the strength of the chain. It didn't budge.

"Marvin?" Claire inquired, gun resting comfortingly back in her hand.

Spying a set of bolt cutters sitting in a nearby toolbox, Leon grabbed them and maneuvered one of the chain's links between its powerful jaws. "Yeah, Lieutenant Marvin Branagh. Met him when I arrived. He saved my life." The link snapped easily, and the broken chain clattered to the ground. He slipped the bolt cutters into his belt.

"Are there any others?" Claire asked quickly, excited at the prospect of more survivors. Leon's expression fell and so did her fragile hope.

"There was but…" He trailed off, heart fluttering painfully in his chest. His mind replayed the image of the strong spray of hot blood and the sound of a bone-chilling scream. A hand on his arm snapped him back to the present and he blinked to see Claire. Rain dripped from her soggy bangs and ran down her smooth face. Bright cornflower blue eyes gazed at him in sympathy as she gave him an understanding smile. Taking a deep breath, he returned her smile with a small one of his own.

Grabbing the door handle, Leon turned towards her. "Ready?"

Claire held her gun higher and gave him a nod. "Born ready."

Throwing open the door, the scream of a zombie greeted them, and Claire wasted no time putting it on the ground. Another dragged its body through the busted window and landed on the floor like a sack of potatoes. Leon stepped around his companion to take care of it. The explosive shots echoed down the corridor and Claire was a bit surprised that there wasn't more than these two. She supposed she had Leon to thank for that.

The RPD officer was occupied with keeping the second zombie on the ground, his body taught, and laser-focused on the task. Seeing he had the situation under control, Claire pulled the bolt cutters from his belt and moved to the second chained door. With a heave, she managed to snap the chain securing the door. It burst open and a zombie lunged at her. Claire screamed when freezing cold hands with a steel grip latched onto her shoulders and jerked her forward. Her eyes fixated on the gaping maw determined to take a chunk out of her. Leon's cry of her name spurred her into action. Wrapping a hand around the zombie's slimy jaw, she gripped the hilt of her combat knife with the other and drove it deep into the creature's chest. Shoving it away, Leon put a bullet between its eyes.

"You alright?" Leon asked, watching as she worked to get her breath back.

Claire nodded shakily, "Yeah." That was almost too close. Trying to regain her composure, she pressed the back of her wrist to her nose. "They smell even worse up close."

"I'll take your word for it," Leon said moving past her into the room. It was an office space not unlike the one at the west end of the building. It was, however, slightly larger with a row of desks lined up down the center. Two other desks were clustered together near a window where the body of an officer was slumped. Another of the undead banged against the window.

Approaching the downed zombie, Claire cautiously prodded it with the toe of her boot. When it didn't stir, she crouched next to it and reached for her knife. The blade was lodged in the foul tissue and refused to come free. She gave it a few more experimental tugs before growling with frustration. Stepping over the zombie, Claire placed her foot next to the knife, got a good grip on the handle, and pulled.

"Give me back...my knife…you…_asshole_!" She hissed between gritted teeth. She finally managed to wrench out the blade and it came free with a sickening squelch. She gave a quiet cheer before wiping the left-over gunk off on the corpse's torn clothes.

"Special knife?" Leon questioned circling back after clearing the rest of the room.

"You could say that," Claire replied, slipping the knife back into its sheath. "My brother gave it to me when I left for college."

The zombie was still making a racket against the glass and it was starting to make him nervous. Spying a few wooden boards just underneath the windowsill, Leon gestured to it. "Hey, help me with this."

Lifting the board into place, Claire held it steady as Leon used the butt of his gun to hammer in the nails. "You never did tell me his name."

"Chris, his name's Chris. He's a member of S.T.A.R.S."

"What's S.T.A.R.S.?"

Claire blinked at the cop in disbelief. "S.T.A.R.S.? Department's special task force?" Leon just shook his head and Claire's eyes narrowed. "You're supposed to be RPD, how do you not know about S.T.A.R.S.?"

Leon's lips twitched. "Would you believe me if I said this was my first day on the job?"

Silence reigned for all of two seconds. "You're joking, right?"

"Wish I was," Leon stated bitterly. "Kind of regretting choosing this place as my first assignment."

"Wait, you actually chose to come to Raccoon City? Willingly?" She teased as they worked on the next board.

"I had heard about the 'cannibal murders' and how no one could figure out who was doing it. Thought maybe I could find something that the others didn't. I requested the assignment before I had even graduated from the academy." He let out a humorless chuckle. "Look where that got me. Trapped in a goddamn nightmare with a small army of the undead trying to eat me for dinner. That's what I get for trying to be a hero."

"Hey, for what it's worth. You're my hero." Leon gave her an incredulous look. "Well, you are. If you hadn't been there, I probably would have died at that gas station."

Leon's eyes softened and Claire beamed at him, making his own smile grow. This girl was truly something else. Hammering the last of the nails into place, they stepped back, satisfied that this zombie wouldn't be getting in any time soon. "I think that should do it," Leon said, flipping Matilda back around. "Come on."

He led Claire through the darkened hallway back into the warm light of the main hall. Leon picked up his pace and Claire had to jog to keep up. Rounding the corner of privacy curtains, they reached a set of couches and a makeshift table of crates. Leon let out a quiet sigh of relief at seeing the figure stretched out on the leather couch. "Still alive" he breathed.

"The Lieutenant?" Claire asked. The man looked a little worse for wear as her eyes lingered on the bloodied hole in his side. "What happened?"

"Don't know, but we need to find a way out of here and fast." He turned to the goddess statue situated behind them. "The Lieutenant believes there's a secret passage under the statue that should lead us straight to the parking garage."

"Seriously?" Leon shrugged helplessly and Claire rolled her eyes. "Let me guess, it needs a special key with a corresponding symbol on it to open, right?"

"Medallions actually. Three of them."

"Awesome. Why the hell not?" Claire deadpanned. "Not like anything else was going easy on us tonight."

"If it makes you feel any better, I already got one and I know where the second one is. I just can't get to it. Haven't found that third yet."

Claire huffed, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose in exasperation. "Alright, show me where the second one is, and I'll see if I can help."

Leon nodded once before taking one last look at Lieutenant Branagh. _Hang in there, Marvin, _he whispered to his comrade, _we'll get you out of here_. Tightening his hold on Matilda, he turned toward Claire. "Come on," he said heading straight for the West Office door.

Following close behind the rookie, Claire wasn't ready for the pain that pricked her heart at seeing the 'Welcome Leon' sign hanging from the ceiling of the war-torn office. The blue and yellow were a bright contrast to the dark red coating most of the surfaces surrounding it. Seems Leon hadn't been the only one excited for his new assignment. That pain only grew at seeing Leon fixing his gaze on a point beyond the room, actively avoiding looking up. Claire suspected that the sight hurt the rookie more than he would ever admit. From what she had seen so far, the man was a total bleeding heart.

Ignoring the still occupied desk in the corner, they both made it out into the hallway without incident, and Leon took a noticeably deep breath. Claire was tempted to reach out and comfort him as she had done before, but Leon recovered quickly. "Hey," he gestured to a steel door directly across from them, his voice low as if he was afraid of waking anything that still slept in the silent hallway.

Opening the door, a rush of excitement ran through Claire as she spied what looked like rows and rows of lockers. Evidence lockers. Evidence lockers that still might have some goodies left inside. She nearly rushed forward, eager to get her hands on the life-saving items when her excitement dimmed. Most of the lockers were open and empty, no doubt cleared out long before either of them had arrived. Despite her loss of hope, Leon kept going, determined to get somewhere. Curious, Claire followed. It wasn't until they were nearly on top of it that Claire saw what he was aiming for. The last and biggest locker at the very end of the room was untouched and displayed two items that made her heart want to sing; a Remington 870 shotgun and a GM 79 grenade launcher.

"Oh, Fuck yeah!" Claire cheered bouncing over to the locker like a kid in a candy store. She avoided pressing her face to glass because she wasn't that childish. "Please tell me you have a key to this thing." She turned to see Leon waving a card key with a sinful smile. Oh, she could kiss him.

Leon slid the card into place and they both heard the magnificent click of the lock. Unable to contain herself any longer, Claire ripped open the door and automatically reached for the more explosive weapon. "Dibs on the grenade launcher!" The flame rounds that had been stored on a shelf next to it fit so snugly into the chamber and Claire couldn't help but grin manically.

Shaking his head fondly at his partner, Leon pulled out the shotgun, turning it over slightly in his hands. The weight of the weapon felt good, safe. Pushing a few rounds into its chamber and cocking it, he turned to see Claire staring at him with an unreadable expression. "Ready?" He asked with a grin of his own.

The rookie's question brought Claire out of her daze. "Oh yeah," she replied with an evil little laugh. "Let's go fuck some shit up."


End file.
